


Who's Gonna Drive You Home?

by DynamicDuo (XylB)



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Oliver and Roy's complicated relationship, Recovery, based on Snowbirds Don't Fly, so Ollie makes that bad decision, very background Hal/Barry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-22
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-26 07:00:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30102069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XylB/pseuds/DynamicDuo
Summary: The summer he turns sixteen, Roy comes to visit Gotham. More specifically, visit Dick, but Bruce doesn't care for the semantics much. All he knows is that Roy's running through his teen rebellion phase with some annoyance at Ollie, and it'll pass before the school year begins again.Quite frankly, Bruce doesn't think anything of it until Hal Jordan shows up at his front door.
Kudos: 11





	Who's Gonna Drive You Home?

**Author's Note:**

> Canon has been scrapped for parts. I reordered the events of Snowbirds Don't Fly and completely discarded Ollie backhanding Roy, so read this with that in mind! 
> 
> Title from "Drive" by The Cars!

When Speedy first starts hanging around Gotham, Bruce doesn't think anything of it. The Teen Titans are happy, sociable bunch, and it wouldn't be the first time one of them has visited, and they _are_ Dick's friends after all. Bruce isn't an idiot in that regard - Dick has school friends, sure, but the Teen Titans are his _best_ friends. He'd told Bruce as such a couple years ago, shortly after they formed the team. 

"You know Roy can join us, right?" Bruce turns around in his computer chair to raise an eyebrow at Dick, just coming in from a "solo" patrol. "You don't need to sneak him in on your solos." 

"You said you'd stop actively tracking me," Dick replies, unbuttoning the cape. 

"I have." Bruce stopped tailing him through city cameras when Dick asked a few months ago, happy to grant him independence. But Dick knows full well Bruce still checks cameras on hotspots or areas of note, and Dick swings by quite a few of them on his way around the city. "One of the bank cameras caught sight of him." 

Dick pauses while hanging up his gear. 

"How long has he been helping you?" Bruce asks, grinning as he leans back in the chair. Dick's lips twitch with a smile. 

"Can't get anything past you, huh?" The gloves go into their display case. "A couple weeks. It's nothing big." 

Bruce shrugs. "Invite him to our patrol tomorrow, then." 

"Why, because you don't trust him?" Dick accompanies it with a quirk of his eyebrow that tells Bruce he's mocking him. 

"I have no problem with him," Bruce says honestly. "But if you want to work together, you don't have to restrict yourself to your solos." 

Dick nods thoughtfully, touching the corner of his mask to test the adhesive. "I'll ask him. Anything else?" 

"No." Bruce spins around in his chair and clicks open a report. "He's welcome for dinner as well if he wants. Good job with the bank." 

"Thanks." There's a quiet burst of pride in Dick's voice that makes Bruce smile to himself, fond and gentle as Dick retreats to change and shower in the locker rooms. 

\-- 

Roy looks _startlingly_ different to when Bruce last saw him. His hair is longer, _scruffier_ , and he's clearly hit a growth spurt, taller than Bruce remembers. He's wearing a nondescript blue hoodie and jeans with a duffel thrown over his shoulder when he shows up at the front door with Dick, but Bruce can see hints of his Speedy gear hiding underneath. He would pass for somewhere much older than sixteen if it wasn't for the slim frame and the sharper angles on his jaw where he hasn't filled out yet. 

"Hey, here just in time for dinner," Bruce says, opening the door wider to beckon them in. "I'm just helping Alfred finish the pasta." With two teenage boys coming over, _and_ before patrol, they'd planned for something heartier, more filling. And Roy's going to need it, judging by the growth-spurt discrepancy between his height and his weight. 

"Thanks, Mr. Wayne," Roy says, hiking the bag up on his shoulder and offering a polite smile. "I appreciate it." 

"Call me Bruce, and it's no problem. Dick's friends are always welcome." He shoots a grin at Dick, reaching out to ruffle his hair. Dick ducks out of the way, slapping at his knuckles with a put-upon frown. "If he ever _invited_ any of them, that is." 

"Damn, he hasn't even gotten sick of Wally yet?" Roy teases, then freezes, eyeing Bruce up. "Uh, sorry." 

Bruce waves it off. "We're not _that_ strict on language. Otherwise Batman would be over before he ever started." 

"Yeah, wait until you hear him on patrol," Dick says to Roy. "He keeps cutting off my channel so he doesn't accidentally hit me with an F-bomb. And Wally's come over plenty of times, screw you." 

Something passes between Dick and Roy, an inside joke that Bruce doesn't pry into, instead turning around to lead them to the dining room. Behind him, the boys talk quietly amongst themselves and intermittently giggle, footsteps dawdling when one of them audibly shoves the other. 

\-- 

After dinner, Bruce heads up to Dick's room, otherwise known as Dick and Roy's last known location. Always important to digest before patrol - a lesson Bruce learnt early on, unpleasantly enough - so they have a few hours before they'd be heading out. To his surprise, they're not up to anything chaotically athletic in there. 

"Hello, boys," Bruce says, grinning as Dick waves half-heartedly to him. He's curled up in his desk chair with a book, while Roy sits calmly on the floor by his bed, studiously crafting something with origami paper. Dick's old book of _101 Origami Animals_ sits open beside him. 

"Roy, what's your number?" Bruce wiggles his phone. "Since you're working with us, I'd like to be able to contact you in case...of anything." 

"Oh, I, uh, don't have a phone," Roy says, glancing awkwardly at Dick. "It broke." 

Bruce blinks. "Oh. Okay." He pockets his phone and gestures vaguely at the window. "Do you want me to ask Ollie for - " 

"I don't wanna talk to him," Roy snaps suddenly, an impressive display of anger pulling his features together. 

"I...okay." Bruce flounders for words, looks helplessly at Dick, who just turns calmly back to his book like he's not in this conversation. Roy fiddles with the origami in his hands, frowning down at his lap. 

"Does he know you're here?" Bruce asks. Roy nods. 

"Yeah." He looks like he wants to say something else, but bites his tongue. Then he frowns again, glancing up at Bruce. "You didn't tell him?" 

"I..." Shit, was _that_ what Bruce was supposed to do? Did parents inform other parents about their kids' whereabouts? Even vigilantes with League trackers on all their equipment? But Roy would have told his parents where he was going, right? The Teen Titans are the most responsible bunch of teens Bruce has ever met, and he used to _be_ a responsible teen. 

"I didn't think about it," he says honestly. "Uh, should I? Is that - something I should do?" 

Dick rolls his eyes. "People don't usually let teenagers just gallivant across the country, Bruce." 

"Well, _yeah_ , but - " he looks to Roy again, lost, " - your parents know where you are, right?" 

Roy nods wordlessly. 

"So...I don't need to call them," Bruce concludes. "I think. Do I?" 

"As long as I don't have to talk to him, then whatever," Roy says, running his fingernail down a fold. Bruce is never going to understand teenagers. 

He recognises annoyance when he sees it, though, so he takes that as his cue to leave, disappearing silently down the hallway as the boys resume whatever conversation they were having before he stepped in. Whatever Roy hates Ollie for right now, Bruce is sure it'll pass, just like Dick's phases of vehemently hating Bruce for whatever slight he perceived against him. Alfred had reassured him rebellion was normal, was expected, and _you weren't far off this yourself, Bruce, when you were his age_. 

\-- 

"So, do I call you Mr. Bat? Mr. Man? Mr. Batman?" 

Bruce laughs as he spins around from the Batcomputer to Roy, tugging at the cowl pooled around his neck. "Just Batman is fine." 

"Cool." Roy shakes out a collapsible bow, neatly flipping the locks on it to keep it extended - Bruce watches on a little jealously, begrudgingly impressed with Queen gear. Not that he'd ever admit it to the man's face. 

Like Dick, Roy's also updated his costume - now he has long sleeves clasped under the bracers, but drifting looser around his arms for range of movement, and his trousers have a couple extra armour pads cinched to the knees and shins. The armoured torso has a slightly different design now, arcing around to protect his ribs better. There's standard wear and tear all over - scrapes in the fabric, scuffs on the boots, the missing buckle on the belt. Bruce silently resolves to ask if Roy would like Alfred to offer some repairs on it. 

He still has the hat, Bruce notes, the feather visible in the pooled duffle at his feet, but he doesn't pick it up. Instead, he crouches to fish for something else, and ends up slapping a nondescript black baseball cap on and twisting it backwards. Is that fashion nowadays? 

Dick emerges from the lockers shortly after, fully kitted out except for the cape and gloves - and mask, which he addresses with a bottle of spirit gum wiggled at Roy. Bruce turns back to the monitors as they apply their dominos, retracing his planned patrol routes for each of them. Roy to the north, for the safer and less unruly side of Gotham. Dick down through the west, for the quieter residential streets. And finally, Bruce for the southeast, the hotspot. 

He knows his careful strategy won't fly under Dick's radar. But sue him, he's got _two_ kids under his jurisdiction now, and with Roy far from familiar with Gotham, Bruce doesn't want to drag him straight into the firing line. 

Either way, he doesn't think Ollie would appreciate it if Bruce returned his son - his ward? he's not sure how Ollie defines their relationship - with fear gas burns on him. 

"Ready to go?" He asks, sweeping away from the computer to face the boys. 

"Aye aye, Mr. Batman," Roy says, with a teasing grin that smacks of Dinah through-and-through. Maybe his guardians _aren't_ so bad, after all. 

"Are we driving?" Dick asks. 

" _I_ am driving, yes," Bruce replies, fitting the cowl over his head as he walks to the car. 

"Aw, c'mon, I've got my driver's licence!" 

"You have the provisional," Bruce corrects. Dick throws up his hands in exasperation, although Bruce suspects that's more for Roy's benefit than his own. 

"Can I _provisionally_ drive?" He tries as Bruce opens the drivers' side door. 

"You can provisionally run checks on the comms," Bruce says, ushering Dick towards the backseat. "Roy, would you like to pick the music?" 

"Oh, _hell_ yeah!" 

\-- 

After the drive into the city, at a careful five miles below the speed limit and with a few less shortcuts than usual, Bruce pulls up into his usual spot by the GCPD. There's no Batsignal tonight, but he still considers it common courtesy to see if the Commissioner has anything for him, or even if he just wants to chat. 

"Speedy, have you met the Commissioner yet?" Bruce asks as they scale the building - Roy uses the fire escape while Bruce and Dick grapple in short bursts. He makes a mental note of asking if Roy wants to borrow one of the grapple guns when they get back, and then _another_ mental note to tell Dick to train him on it if so. 

"Nope," Roy pants, winded from his path up the rickety stairs. They creak worryingly with each step, but Dick hovers nearer to him, ready to catch if the bolts give way. Not that Bruce thinks they _will_ , but there's a first time for everything, and he should probably report this to Jim. 

It turns out he doesn't have to, because as he alights on the roof with Dick, Roy heaves himself up over the concrete lip and collapses on his back on the gravel, breathing heavily enough to be audible. From his position near the Batsignal, Jim blinks down at him. 

"Your...fire escape...is really...rusty," Roy pants, tipping his head back to look at Jim upside down. "You should...get that...checked out." 

Jim nods once. "Will do, son." Then he looks quizzically at Bruce. "Really? Another one, Batman?" 

"No, no, he's not mine," Bruce corrects hurriedly, and then when Jim squints at him, rushes to explain. "He's another - he's the sidekick of another League member. Green Arrow, you've heard of him, right?" 

"Out in California, right?" Jim nods vaguely in the direction of west. The gravel crunches behind Bruce where Dick helps Roy up. 

"Yeah. He's just visiting for - a bit." He should probably ask how long Roy intends to stay in Gotham, but that's for later. 

Jim grunts in acknowledgement and steps past Bruce to offer his hand out to Roy. "I'm Commissioner Gordon, but you can call me Jim." 

Roy eyes his hand warily before taking it with a smile. "Speedy, sir. From the Teen Titans? Nice to meet you." 

Jim doesn't let go of his hand. Bathed in shadow like he is, it's almost impossible to make out any of Roy's expression except for the flash of his teeth, and even harder to discern any details. Bruce wonders if that's deliberate in some way. 

"New York," Jim says gruffly. "Yeah, I've heard of ya." He seems to be studying Roy, almost, tilting his head in that familiar way that means he's trying to piece someone together. He'd done it to Bruce when he first met him, puzzling him out like a pinned butterfly. 

"Do you have any cases for us?" Dick asks, interrupting whatever examination Jim was carrying out. Jim drops Roy's hand with a final friendly shake and turns to face all of them. 

"None tonight," he says, although he does fish something out of his coat pocket. "I didn't exactly pack for an extra person, but hey, I'm sure Robin won't mind sharing." Dick neatly catches the pack of Junior Mints, grinning from ear to ear as he tears open the box and tips it towards Roy. It distracts them enough for Jim to step closer to Bruce. 

"You're lucky they already had dinner," Bruce says. "Otherwise you'd have ruined it." 

"Ah, they're teenage boys, they'll burn it off," Jim replies, but he doesn't smile quite yet. "Speedy _is_ a teenager, right?" 

"Same age as Robin," Bruce confirms. Jim's moustache twitches. "What is it?" 

"His hand was shaking," Jim says. "Trembling." 

Bruce frowns. Roy doesn't seem like the nervous type, but Bruce admittedly has very little idea how much the Arrows interact with their police force. 

"Probably just nervous you'd forbid him from operating," Bruce says. "You're a little territorial." 

"Yeah, _territorial_ ," Jim snorts. "That's the word for the job of _Commissioner_." He shoots a glance at Bruce. "Why is he _really_ here? Is this a permanent move?" 

"No." Bruce shifts on his feet and leans in to lower his voice. "He had a bit of a...falling out with Green Arrow." 

"A 'falling out'? In your line of work, that could mean he damn well tried to _kill_ him." 

Bruce shakes his head with a huffed laugh. "Nothing like that. They're father-son, it's just some teenage rebellion. I'm sure he'll be back by the end of the summer." He pauses. "Well, he _has_ to be, for school. But you remember March, right? When Robin refused to come on patrol for three weeks straight?" 

"I do," Jim laughs. "I very much do. I gotta say, I do get a kick out of the superhero community suffering the same ails as the rest of us." 

"Uh-huh. And how _is_ your daughter?" 

"Having a fantastic summer with her mother up in Canada." Jim elbows him in the ribs. "Missed her so much you just had to pick up another redhead, huh?" 

"Careful, talk like that is what gets you in a cape," Bruce jokes, glancing deliberately at Jim's hair. "Y'know, if you lost the glasses, you'd make a pretty decent Batgirl." 

"Oh, shut _up_." 

\-- 

After the GCPD detour, they congregate on their usual clocktower, tucked into the hidden balconies opposite the clock side. 

"Speedy, I want you to cover the north." Bruce gestures to the area, where the freeway curves around to fence in the business sector of the city. "Check in over the radio every five." 

"Oh, I'll be out of radius," Roy says matter-of-factly, _casually_ , like Bruce didn't personally supply the League with upgraded comms just two weeks ago with range that could cover a whole city. 

Dick's odd silence clues Bruce into glossing over it. 

"Then Robin will go with you," he says calmly. "Report back every five minutes." 

"Aye aye." Roy salutes him with a nod, smiling faintly at Bruce's amused chuckle. 

When they swing safely away, Bruce turns in the other direction and starts his descent towards the broader, squatter buildings of southeast. The nightlife is busier here, with an assortment of bars and clubs only just starting their evenings where the other sectors of Gotham will be rounding theirs out. Mostly, it's keeping an eye on any sketchy figures, and following a couple nervous-looking people to hideouts that Bruce already knows about. 

He gets in a couple fights - more like scraps, barely worth the effort and the cuffs, but soon enough he's alerted the GCPD to a couple pick-ups and is on his way. Dick and Roy check in consistently, with no reports of fights but plenty of reconned intel, which is honestly a better result than Bruce ever expected.

Bruce has to admit, this is one of the smoothest patrols he's ever run. Maybe the Arrows' methods aren't half-bad. 

\-- 

Debrief is quick and painless. Bruce compiles Dick's and Roy's notes and marks their points of criminal activity interest on the electronic map constantly running on the background of the Batcomputer. The boys disappear into the locker room chatting away merrily, leaving Bruce with just the quiet beeping of the updating software. 

He thumbs the comm out of his ear and looks it over with a frown. He's sure he gave enough to the League for all their contacts - sidekicks, League members that couldn't attend, definitely enough for the Teen Titans. He idly tracks the sound of footsteps emerging behind him, and the murmured chatter before Roy heads upstairs alone. 

"Dick, why doesn't Roy have a League-standard comm?" Bruce asks, once he's sure they're alone in the Cave. 

Dick pauses where he's hanging up his costume. "I don't know." 

He's lying. Bruce spins around in his chair, studies him for a moment more, then plucks a spare comm out of the drawer underneath the computer and hands it to Dick. 

"It's already calibrated," he says. Dick nods and takes off with a quick goodnight. 

\-- 

"I'm going out," Dick says on his way by Bruce's office. "Got plans with Roy." 

Bruce frowns at the time on his watch. "As long as you're back by ten, sure." 

Dick's been going out more to visit Roy. Bruce has no idea where he's staying, but it must be one of the hotels, or motels, and that _must_ be starting to get expensive after the last month. Ollie's well-off, but surely this is bordering on too much. Surely? 

Bruce tries to calculate the cost of the cheapest place in Gotham that's still appropriately safe enough for a teenager to stay alone, and multiplies it by a month, and accounts for food and assorted other needs and...it doesn't quite add up. He frowns at his notepad. There's something that doesn't quite fit about Roy's stay here, but Bruce doesn't have even the _start_ of a hint. 

But Dick's hanging out with him. And Roy is Dick's _friend_ , and Bruce made a silent vow to never investigate Dick's friends without an extremely good cause, which is one that would involve either some sort of major crime or something he'd need to call CPS on. And Roy displays nothing out of the ordinary - at least out of the ordinary that Bruce knows, because he admittedly doesn't know the kid that well. 

And there's no hints, he reminds himself, because there's nothing for it to hint _to_. Hell, this is like the time Donna stayed over for the winter holidays, and so far, Roy's visit is shaping up to be very similar to hers. 

So he pushes it aside. He promised himself he wouldn't snoop, he's _not_ snooping, and as far as he's concerned, Roy's just visiting Gotham for the summer before school kicks in again. 

\-- 

"Roy can stay here if he wants," Bruce says over breakfast one day. Dick chokes on his water and coughs until Alfred calmly thumps him on the back. 

"What?" He croaks. Bruce shrugs. 

"We have the room," he says. "Right, Alfred?" 

"It's not being used by anyone else," Alfred agrees. "And it would certainly help us get through some of those bulk ingredients Bruce ordered last month." He levels Bruce with a look across the table, a smile tilting up the corner of his mouth. "The bulk _perishable_ ingredients." 

"It was an _accident_ ," Bruce protests. "I typed the wrong number!" 

"Still. Mr. Harper stop us from wasting a quarter of it." Alfred glances away and hums thoughtfully. " _Or_ I could always make meals for you to bring to him - " 

"I'm not letting you pack Roy a _lunchbox_ ," Dick says, holding up a hand. "I'd do it myself." 

"It's not going to eat itself, Dick," Bruce teases, lifting an eyebrow. Dick sighs. 

"I'll ask," he promises. "But I honestly don't know if he'll wanna take you up on it." 

Bruce just shrugs at that. No skin off his nose if Roy declines. 

\-- 

To Dick's obvious delight, Roy does agree to stay over. Bruce never sees the conversation, but he does see Dick practically _beaming_ when Roy comes over for dinner again, already talking about showing him his room when Bruce gets there to welcome him. Alfred emerges somewhere in the lobby to join them, although he hangs back while they open the door. 

"Roy, welcome," Bruce says, putting a hand on Dick's shoulder to calm him. "I take it that you're staying over?" 

"If that's all right?" Roy hikes his duffel higher on his shoulder and clears his throat. "I mean, it's fine if not - " 

"I wouldn't _ask_ you if he hadn't already agreed," Dick says, grabbing Roy's arm to pull him inside. Bruce laughs and opens the door wider to let them barrel in. 

"You go ahead. I can get - " Bruce looks at the empty doorstep, " - your bags?" He frowns. "Roy, do you have any luggage?" 

"Uh, no." Roy shifts on his feet, gesturing to the duffel - which, Bruce knows, also carries his Speedy gear. "I only brought this." 

"I - all right, then." Bruce meets Alfred's eyes over their heads, but Alfred, bizarrely enough, just gives him a smile and a conspiratorial little nod - _it's okay_. 

Well, Bruce can't exactly blame Roy. He's hardly the first person to underpack for a summer stay - as Alfred would gladly reminisce at request, Dick once went to Wally's house (halfway across the country!) for a fortnight with nothing more than one change of clothes. _Too excited_ , Alfred had fondly sighed while they were folding clothes to post to Barry. 

"Well, as you can imagine, most of the rooms are free," Bruce says instead, smiling at the two as he closes the door. "There's one across from Dick's room that we've set up for you, but if you'd like somewhere else, just let me know." 

"That sounds awesome," Roy replies, sunny smile and all. "Thanks." 

\-- 

"Bruce, is it okay if Roy stays in my room?" 

Bruce looks up from his computer - his _normal_ computer, where he's spreadsheeting a frankly boring number of accounts for WE. Dick hangs off of the door jamb like he's eight years old and nervously asking Bruce about dessert all over again. 

"Yes, of course," Bruce says. He gestures for Dick to come in. "Do you need an extra mattress?" 

"We've already moved his mattress over," Dick says, coming up to the desk. It's only been a week since Roy's been with them, but Bruce is glad to see them getting on so well even in proximity. 

"Ah, I see, this wasn't an 'asking for permission' kind of deal." 

Dick grins, every single bit as mischievous as Alfred. "Nah, it was more of a 'seeking forgiveness' deal." 

"Then I see no problem with it," Bruce replies, and turns back to his spreadsheets. 

Dick looks suspiciously at him. "You aren't gonna ask me to keep my door open or whatever?" 

Bruce opens his mouth to respond, then falters. "I - no?" He frowns. "Should I?" 

Dick's expression wipes blank, confusion settling in on his face. "Huh, I don't...know. It's what they do in the movies. At least for a guy and a girl in the same room." 

"Are you...dating Roy?" Bruce asks, completely out of his depth. He can't think of any times Alfred insisted on _him_ keeping his door open, but then again, he never brought many friends over. Except - "Although if you _were_ , I'd probably rather you were being safe in here than - " 

"Shutupshutup shut _up_ ," Dick babbles, dramatically sticking his fingers in his ears. He's blushing. Cute. Bruce politely doesn't laugh. "I'm _not_ dating Roy, and even if I _was_ , I'm not gonna have sex while you're awake." 

"So when I'm asleep, it's a different story?" 

Dick flips him off. Bruce bursts into laughter, clapping Dick on the shoulder reassuringly. 

"Seriously, though," he says a moment later, still smiling. "If you _do_ start dating someone, I'd like any teenage fumbling to happen in a safe environment, wherever that is." 

"Shut up, I hate you." 

"I love you, too." Bruce tugs Dick in by the shoulder to embrace him, chuckling a little against his head. Dick stands stiffly in his arms, but his stern façade is betrayed by the telltale shaking of his shoulders and the laugh that bubbles out into Bruce's chest. 

"Never talk to me about sex again," Dick mumbles into his shirt. "It was embarrassing enough when I was twelve." 

"Mhmm." Bruce squeezes him once before letting him go. "You can keep your door as closed as you like." 

Dick grins up at him, a sparkle of mischief in his eye. "Can I lock it?" 

"Well, _now_ I think you're up to something," Bruce teases. He fully deserves the cuff to the shoulder. "But Alfred and I will adhere to the knocking policy, you know that." 

"Yeah, I know. I'll keep it unlocked." Dick brushes off the conversation with a shrug and smiles at him. "Thanks." 

"Of course, chum." Bruce goes to ruffle his hair again, but Dick avoids this one, wagging a finger at him as he backs up to the hallway. And then bolts to his room. 

Bruce relaxes in his chair, bringing up his phone again to scroll through it. He trusts Dick, even if he _does_ decide to lock the door - Bruce generally asks that he doesn't, in case something happens to Dick, and Bruce or Alfred need to be able to get inside to help him without wasting time busting the lock open. 

Although maybe he'll start stocking some condoms in the family bathroom. Just to embarrass Dick a little. 

\-- 

It's been a peaceful two weeks with Roy taking up space in the manor. Dick is more lively with one of his friends around, and Roy even volunteers to help with some of the chores a couple days into his stay. It's doing wonders for the mood of the household, and, surprisingly enough, seems to be settling them into a more normal routine. Dick and Roy retreat to Dick's relatively early in the evenings, holed up until morning, where Bruce finds one or both of them slumped over the breakfast table. 

"Roy's not an early bird," Dick had said, back when Roy started sleeping over. "Please don't be the dad trying to wake everyone up after a sleepover." 

"I'll leave him alone," Bruce had promised with a chuckle. "You know how to cook if he needs breakfast later." 

Bruce thought it might be _noisier_ with two teenage boys in the house, but it seems like they tire each other much quicker than Bruce could ever hope to. Roy is a quieter force than he expected from Dick's stories, more subdued than the Titans tales led him to believe. 

Alfred warmed up to him almost instantly, addressing him with the same affectionate touches he does for Dick, spending time with one or both the boys in the big family living room. And slowly, Bruce finds himself rearranging his schedule over the next couple of weeks. Before, he preferred to spread out his WE duties over the whole course of the day, so he could maximise his time in the company, but now he pushes as much into the mornings and early afternoons as he can so he can return home earlier than six p.m.. 

He'll go back to his usual schedule soon, but he figures he deserves a little family time, and without Barbara in the country, Dick's been awfully antsy. Having a friend keeps him much more grounded. 

\-- 

A barrage of insistent knocking rattles the front door. Bruce snaps to attention, striding towards it just as Alfred pops out of a nearby room. 

"Bruce, what _is_ that?" He asks, eyeing the door warily. 

"I don't know," Bruce murmurs. "I got it, though." 

"Hm." Alfred ducks back into the little side room and gestures to him. "Well, you know what to do if you need help. I'll be right here." Bruce knows full well he has his shotgun safe in that room, and can practically imagine him counting out the bullets already. The thought makes him chuckle, even as trepidation drips down his spine. 

The door rattles with another series of knocks - more like _thumps_ , as if someone's pounding on it with a fist. Bruce silently slinks up to check the peephole, and - 

_Huh?_

He frees the chain and bolt and unlocks the door to open it. 

"Hal?" He asks, somewhat dumbly. Hal looks - well, he looks _furious_. His hair is tellingly windswept, his clothes in clear disarray from a flight back to Earth and, apparently, to Gotham. 

"Where's Roy?" Hal asks, and Bruce instantly goes on guard, stepping forward to fill the doorframe with his bulk. He may not have the suit on, and Hal may have a power ring, but he'll be damned if he lets that stop him. 

He doesn't know much about Hal, but he _does_ know he's one of Ollie's best friends. 

Bruce also doesn't know what's going on, but so far, Roy's only asked one thing of him, and with Dick backing it up, Bruce isn't inclined to let Ollie send his friends to retrieve his son without knowing why exactly Roy's so angry at him in the first place. Alfred always said to let Dick come back to him after an outburst, not chase him down, and if space is what Roy needs, then Bruce isn't granting anyone a single inch into it. 

So, he knows who he's protecting. 

"Go away, Jordan," Bruce snarls. 

"No." Stubborn as always. Hal narrows his eyes. "I know he's staying here, so where is he? Is he in?" 

Roy's upstairs with Dick. Bruce hopes they don't decide to investigate the noise downstairs just yet. 

"It's none of your business," he growls. "Or Ollie's." 

Hal's mouth twists. "For the love of god, Bruce, just let me in." He starts to raise his fist, then halts, and Bruce bristles all over, glaring at him as he crosses his arms. 

"If you lift a single finger on that ring, my butler has a shotgun." 

"I'm not - " Hal grunts in frustration, turning to pace slightly on Bruce's doorstep. "Just go get Roy, would you?" 

"Not after whatever Ollie did," Bruce says, and Hal _explodes_ , whirling around on his heel with his hands thrown in the air. 

"I know! It's stupid, isn't it? Mother _fucker_ couldn't just stop for _one_ second and _think_ \- " 

Hal gesticulates into the air, now ranting full force into nothing. Bruce straightens almost on reflex, taken aback at the sheer anger coursing through Hal's words. 

" - an _asshole_ move, don't know how he could ever think that would be okay, don't know how he expects Roy to ever fucking _talk_ to him after this! And then Dinah couldn't get through to me for weeks, and then I got back into a sector with a goddamn _signal_ , and then they depowered my fucking ring the moment I got back, as "punishment" for leaving without permission, as if I need their fucking _permission_ to - " 

"Wait, wait, depowered?" Bruce glances down at the ring on instinct, frowning. "They depowered you?" 

" _Yes_. For a month. Heartless bastards," Hal mutters, looking sadly at his ring. "I had enough to juice to stop by Star before coming here, but now I'm stranded in Gotham, so I'm not leaving until you at least ask Roy if he wants to talk to me." 

Bruce takes a second to parse Hal's outburst. 

"You're...not on Ollie's side?" Bruce furrows his brow in confusion, because if Hal's here and asking for Roy, then, _then_ \- 

\- then is it not just teenage rebellion? 

"Of _course_ I'm not," Hal spits. "Jesus Bruce, who do you think I am?" 

"I think I'm very confused as to why you're here," Bruce replies. "Why are _you_ here for Roy?" 

"Who else would be?" 

Bruce...doesn't have a good answer. He stares at Hal for a long ten seconds of silence, both of them weighing up the other. Hal's chest heaves with his panting, anger sharpening the slant of his mouth. 

"I'll ask," Bruce says eventually, as flatly as he can. "If it's a no, you're on the first flight out." 

"Fine by me." Hal crosses his arms and nods to the manor. Bruce frowns at the glimpse of bruising red on his knuckles before they disappear into the fold of his elbow. "Tell him Dinah contacted me. And that she's keeping up her end of the agreement." 

The _agreement_? What the fuck? 

"Wait here," Bruce says, and shuts the door in his face. It would usually be satisfying, but the encounter rubs him the wrong way. He's never seen Hal so enraged, so _focused_. Hal's selfless when it calls for it, but Bruce can't help but wonder what's strong enough to pull him straight out of the space, no matter the Guardians' consequences. 

He finds Dick and Roy in Dick's room, spread out on the floor around Battleship. The door is open, a clear invitation. Dick waves at him with a grin when he steps in, and Roy offers him a smile, but both of their expressions slip when they see Bruce's face. 

"Bruce? Is everything okay?" Dick pushes himself up to sitting, a familiar, Robin-esque tension to his body. Ready to jump into action. 

"It's for...Roy," Bruce says lamely, gesturing to him. "Roy, do you want me to say it here or...?" _do you want to do this privately_. Dick and Roy trade a look. 

"Yeah, Dick can stay," Roy says. A worried frown pulls at his mouth. "What is it?" 

"Hal's downstairs." Bruce clears his throat and gestures vaguely, unsure what to do with his hands. "He's outside. He wants to talk to you. Told me to tell you Dinah contacted him and that, uh, she's keeping up her end of the agreement?" 

To Bruce's surprise, Roy perks up. 

"He's here?" He asks. 

"Yeah, he's just - Roy, you don't have to if you don't want to, though," Bruce adds, although Roy is already standing up. "I can take care of him." 

"I want to." There's something indecipherable in Roy's eyes. "I know you don't like him, but - " 

"What I think doesn't matter," Bruce says blithely. "It's whatever _you_ want." 

"Then yeah, I'd - I'd really like to see him. Thanks." 

Bruce shoots a look at Dick, who just avoids his gaze, and then he leads Roy out and downstairs, opening the front door to let Hal in. Roy halts in the doorway, just _staring_ for a moment, and Bruce can't pick out what's disbelief and what's _relief_. Roy opens his mouth and shuts it again, fidgeting on his feet, like he wants to go towards Hal but something's stopping him. Maybe Bruce, by the covert look he sends his way. 

Whatever it is snaps entirely when Hal smiles and holds his arms out. "C'mere, kid." 

Roy rushes into the hug instantly, melting against Hal in a way that distinctly reminds Bruce of Dick, a phantom fondness rising up to form a lump in his throat when Hal wraps Roy up and exhales shakily into his hair, squeezing him tight. Roy clutches onto him like a lifeline, like - 

Bruce ducks his head when Roy's shoulders start quivering. This isn't for him. 

"You can - come in," he says, as unobtrusively as he can. "Any room on the ground floor is free." He clears his throat and rolls his neck, looking pointedly _into_ the house. "We'll all be upstairs. Let us know if you need anything." 

"Thanks," Hal says, and he sounds so desperately relieved that Bruce almost looks at him on Orphic reflex. 

The door locks quietly behind Hal and Roy, and then Bruce retreats upstairs with Alfred to finish that Battleship game with Dick. 

\-- 

"I'm sorry." Bruce says it as sincerely as he can, meeting Hal's eyes to make sure he knows this is genuine. Irritatingly, Hal just waves him off. 

"It's nothing I wouldn't have done," he says. "You were just protecting Roy." 

"Yeah, but - " _I should have asked before trying to send you away. I should have figured out you were more than a family friend._ " - I was a dick to you." 

Hal smiles at him, amusement flickering in his eyes. "Bruce, it's hardly the worst thing you've ever said to me." 

"No, that'll be when I said you'd undoubtedly be the worst father some poor kid's ever had." Deadpan, grim but humorous enough for Hal to quirk a quick smile at it before going back to looking out the window. 

"I didn't realise," Bruce adds. "That you were - to Roy." 

"I'm not his dad." Hal says it gently. Sombrely. Like it's something he has to remind himself. 

"I think you should ask him about that," Bruce replies, following Hal's gaze to watch Dick and Roy helping Alfred outside, their gardening gloves and jeans completely covered in dirt. 

Guilt settles heavy in his chest, sinking straight to the pit of his stomach. He had no way to know, but he sorely regrets how hard he's been on Hal at work. Assuming he was just some cocky upstart, obnoxiously confident and yet somehow always victorious. A maddening lack of humility, but Bruce just...hadn't seen that side of him. 

"Either way, you're not the worst," Bruce continues. "Really, I am sorry for - everything. I didn't realise how much you had at stake." And it always seemed infuriating, when Hal would take gambles on missions, when at the time Bruce thought of him as the only one without connections, just Barry's friend-and-maybe-more, willing to gamble all of their families and friendships for something unduly risky. 

"I'm good at my job, Bruce." Hal turns to him again, and he suddenly looks so much older, so much more sturdy, that it startles Bruce a little. Hal's age is betrayed in so many little details, but right now, slumped in Bruce's armchair and eyes still tinged red from whatever conversation he had with Roy that morning, he feels much older than twenty-five. 

"I don't take the risks lightly," Hal continues, and rubs a hand over his mouth. "So thank you. For apologising." 

Bruce nods and silence settles comfortably, blanketing them in some sort of odd cocoon in the small space. Dick launches a ball of dirt at Roy, who retaliates similarly, only to get nailed in the back by a traitorous Alfred. Hal rubs his power ring with his thumb, glancing sullenly down at it. 

"The Guardians?" Bruce nods towards the ring, and Hal makes a noise of agreement. 

"I left in the middle of a patrol," he says. "They're not really fans of that sort of thing." A huffed chuckle. "They're stricter than you." 

"I couldn't remove your ring if I tried." 

"No, you couldn't," Hal agrees, and quietly pulls the ring off. To Bruce's surprise, it thrums with a quick burst of energy, and when Hal slides it off, there's a gold band sitting underneath. On the ring finger of his left hand. The same place that Barry wears...his...Flash ring. Oh. _Oh_. 

"Is Wally also...?" Bruce lets the question finish itself in mid-air, raising an eyebrow in Hal's direction. Hal rattles with a laugh, shaking his head. 

"Wally's more Barry's and Iris's kid than mine," he says. "I'm more like his uncle." 

"But it's different for Ollie and Dinah's kid?" Bruce swings it playful, light, and Hal sighs with a smile twitching at his mouth. 

"Ollie's a good dad," he says. "Obviously that's...well, he's ruined that now. But Dinah's still fantastic for Roy, and I've got experience that means I can help him a bit, so that's...where I stand." His gaze snaps to Bruce. "Wait, do you know what happened?" 

Bruce shakes his head. "Roy hates Ollie, and that's all I know." 

"Huh." Hal glances at Roy and rests his elbow on the armrest. "And you just took him in? Without asking?" 

Bruce shrugs one shoulder. "Of course. Why wouldn't I?" 

"Gotta give it to you, you might be the best of all of us." 

Normally, Bruce would agree, or retort with something wittily insulting like _better than you, at least_ , but that normal is long gone. 

"You'd do the same thing," he says. Hal smiles quietly to himself, and Bruce counts it as a win. 

\-- 

Bruce walks into the monthly League meeting expecting it to be business as usual. But as it is, he gets floored almost instantly by the sight around the meeting table, where everyone is uncharacteristically quiet, talking between themselves in pairs or trios rather than chatting loudly across the table. 

Ollie is sitting in his usual chair with an ice pack to his face, staring down blankly at the table. When he briefly adjusts the pack, turning it over in his hand to get a colder side, Bruce catches a glimpse of a recognisable cut on his cheekbone. An imprint. A _Lantern ring_ imprint.

Across the wide table from Ollie, Hal sits with his arms crossed, glaring unsubtly at him. Barry is beside him, as normal, but also mutely angry, frowning when he glances at Ollie. _Un_ usually, Dinah is now sitting next to Barry, on the opposite side of the table from her usual place beside Ollie. Her anger is much more pointed, sharp daggers shot across the glossy surface from her eyes directly into Ollie's brain. 

They are all deathly silent, and a silent Hal scares Bruce more than a shouting Hal. 

"Bruce! Glad you could make it," Clark says, breaking the tense silence that had settled over the table at his appearance. 

"Close call on that one," Bruce replies lightly. There'd been some sort of kerfuffle in Dick's room overnight, but before he could check on them, Alfred had stepped in and firmly kept him out of the hallway entirely. Bruce doesn't know what he's covering, but he trusts Alfred more than anyone else in the world, so he had indeed backed out. 

Still, it gnawed at him all through work. The concern pinching Alfred's eyes smacked of some sort of injury, but Dick and Roy were fine when they returned from solo patrol the previous night. 

He forces himself to forget it, just like Alfred asked him to, and focuses instead on delivering his pitch for the next updates to the Watchtower security system, with biosensors for the airlocks as well as the ones already installed in the zeta tubes, as a more convenient way for anyone flying in to confirm their identity. 

The meeting goes relatively smoothly, except for the gaping hole in back-and-forth when Hal, Barry, and Dinah all refuse to reply to Ollie's very good point about certain holes in the system. The rest of the table seems to take their cues from them, which leaves them in awkward silence. 

Just to progress it, Bruce replies to Ollie, but refuses to meet his eyes. 

\-- 

For the next couple weeks, Bruce finds himself with a rotating front door. Hal visits as often as he can, either to take Roy, and sometimes Dick, out somewhere in the city, or just to have dinner with them. Bruce doesn't know how he's getting to Gotham so regularly without the ring, because Barry can only run him over so often, and the zetas are a decent distance away from the manor. 

But Hal's normally literally fuelled by willpower, so if he's that determined, then who is Bruce to stop him? 

At least, that's what he tells himself. But there's only so many late nights he can watch Hal disappear from before he starts itching to help. 

Bruce almost doesn't catch him this time, but the squeak of Hal's shoes gives him away. 

"Leaving already?" Bruce asks, emerging from the kitchen to lean against the entryway with his arms crossed. 

Hal huffs out a laugh and rubs the back of his neck. "Well, the kids have gone to bed, so there's not much reason for me to darken your doorstep any further." He gestures towards the front door. "I'll come over again soon, if that's okay?" 

Bruce doesn't reply for a long moment. He casts a glance up the stairs, where Dick and Roy have peacefully shuffled off to their room - whether or not they're asleep is a different matter, and none of Bruce's business, as far as he's concerned. 

"The taxi fare must be getting expensive," is what he says instead of goodbye. Hal shrugs and sticks his hands in his jacket pockets. 

"I can afford it," he says. 

Bruce's pride barely sticks in his throat when he swallows it this time. Seeing Hal in this new, much more familial light has changed a lot. 

"You can stay over," Bruce says. "We've got the room." 

"I - c'mon, I can't - you don't want me to stay _here_ ," Hal laughs, shaking his head. "It's fine, Spooks." 

Bruce looks down at the floor and sighs through his nose. 

"You're right that I like my privacy," he says, weighing his words against a feather before he spills them. "And before - this, I never would have allowed you, or any other member of the League aside from maybe Clark, to step foot in here." 

"I'm really hoping there's a 'but' in here," Hal jokes, "or else I'm gonna miss my bus." 

" _But_ ," Bruce says, meeting Hal's eyes with a playful little smile. "But. We can't really go back to _before_ , now. And Roy's over the moon whenever you visit, so take the damn guest room, Jordan." 

Hal blinks, startled, before a smile slants his mouth, curling up in the corner like he's about to call Bruce a _douchebat_ across the meeting table. 

"Is that your way of saying you like me now?" 

Bruce hangs his head with a chuckle. "I always _liked_ you, Hal. I just thought you were - " 

"Incompetent? Stupid? Amateur?" 

Bruce bites the inside of his cheek so he doesn't laugh. "Among other things." 

"And now?" 

"And now...I recognise that you are, at least in some small way, just looking out for the rest of us." 

Hal ducks his head, but he can't quite hide his pleased grin. Something unlocks in Bruce's chest, some little piece of admiration slotting into place beside his trust and respect for Hal. 

"So, do I need to go home for toiletries first, or?" There's a mischievous sort of mirth in Hal's eyes, one that is slowly becoming familiar. Bruce waves him off. 

"I'm sure we can find some extras in the house," he says. "Save the bag for next time." Then he pushes off the wall to head back into the kitchen. "Meanwhile, I've got some leftover tiramisu I need help finishing first." He pauses to glance at Hal over his shoulder. "You coming?" 

" _Oh_ , if I wasn't already married." 

\-- 

"Hi, Mr. Wayne!" Wally's energetic as always, bouncing on his toes as Bruce pulls open the front door. 

"Hey, Wally," he greets, and pushes the door open for Wally to rush in. 

"Doesn't even say goodbye," Barry sighs, tucking his hands into his pockets. "They grow up so fast." 

"You're telling me." 

But Barry doesn't say his goodbyes yet, pausing at Bruce's door and wetting his lips like he doesn't quite know what to say. 

"Barry?" He prompts, raising an eyebrow. 

"Is Roy doing okay?" Barry asks. 

Bruce frowns. The Titans' mentors/parents are close with the other teens, but why would _Barry_ be asking specifically after - _oh_ , yeah. Bruce glances at Barry's left hand involuntarily. He wonders just what their little family unit consists of, briefly, before committing to not being rude. 

"He seems fine," Bruce says, leaning against the doorframe. He squints at Barry. "You know what happened, don't you?" 

Barry rocks back on his heels and exhales towards the sky. "Yeah. I do. And I'm not telling you." 

"I don't want you to." Bruce looks down at the ground. "I just - wanted to know if there's anything I could do to help." He crosses his arms and huffs. "I don't like being useless." 

"You're not useless." 

Bruce almost laughs at it, but then Barry pins him with this piercing, serious gaze, one he's only ever seen framed by electric red. 

"Honestly, letting him stay here has helped," Barry continues, tearing his eyes away to look somewhere to the left of Bruce's front door. "A lot. More than you know. It's - he appreciates it. I don't know if he'll ever tell you that, but someone should." He offers a little grin, charming and boyish all at once. "So maybe don't tell him I said that, yeah?" 

"Your secret's safe with me," Bruce promises, and Barry zips away without another word. 

\-- 

Bruce doesn't know there's any plans until they're being executed. Roy's been staying in Gotham for the better part of the summer, and living in the manor for a month now, but at end of July, Dick starts muttering about Roy having to leave. They're not displeased mutterings, though, which makes Bruce think they're specifically for _him_ , as a way to tell him about said plans without actually _talking_ about said plans. Teenagers, huh? 

Either way, he appreciates the heads-up, and the following weekend is a lot less awkward when Hal shows up with a _car_ outside of the manor. 

"I rented it," he says when Bruce asks. Roy trudges down the stairs with Dick in tow, his trusty duffle slung over one shoulder again. 

"Hey, kid, you ready to go?" Hal asks when they approach, reaching out to sweetly ruffle Roy's hair. Roy licks his lips and nods at the ground. 

"Yeah, I'm ready," he says, with a lot more conviction than Bruce would expect for just the end of a summer visit. Maybe that's what forces it to click in his head, that there's some huge, untold story playing out right before his eyes, from the way that Hal gently takes Roy's shoulder to the meaningful look Roy trades with him. 

Then, Roy's turning to hug Dick, turning his face to press against his hair. 

"I'll miss you," he murmurs, muffled. 

"Hey, I'm not going anywhere," Dick replies, holding him at arms' length to smile at him. "We can talk every day." 

Roy nods, then frowns. "I don't have a phone. I wasn't gonna take the comms - " 

"That's funny," Hal says, winking at Bruce as he pulls something out of his pocket. "I seem to have an extra one right here." It's out of the box, with a case and everything already on it, but even Bruce can tell it's brand spanking new. "Must've fallen out of the glovebox." 

Roy takes it with his mouth parted in a small, shocked 'o'. "Hal, you didn't have to - " 

"I did," Hal replies, grinning down at him. "C'mon, you need to talk to your friends on something that _isn't_ tracked." Then he nudges Roy's shoulder. "Sorry it took so long. Contract was a _bitch_." He locks eyes with Bruce on that one, sharing a laugh with him. "Had to escalate to customer services and everything." 

"Thank you," Roy turns it on and immediately hands it to Dick to put his contact information in - and then the rest of the Titans' numbers, copied from Dick's own phone. 

While they're busy, Bruce directs his attention to Hal and gestures for them to step away from the boys. 

"It's gonna be okay, right?" He asks, tipping his head forward to lower his voice. "Whatever you're doing." 

Hal looks over at Roy and Dick, now laughing over something, and nods. 

"Yeah, I think it'll be all right." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second chapter is a very very short epilogue that just worked better separated, so don't expect anything of a similar length! 
> 
> Otherwise, I'm over at [halifax-jordan](https://halifax-jordan.tumblr.com) on Tumblr!


End file.
